Terms of Engagement
by rogue-bishop
Summary: Note: Spoilers for S7 and minor for upcoming S8 (nothing plot-specific). Jack takes advantage of an SGC function. Updated to fix minor (leftright) continuity glitch. Set late in S8.


Jack O'Neill was remembering a moment. He had been about to try something right; something necessary, and he was going to be very, very public about it. Things seemed to move in slow motion in this memory; the same as when it had happened. For the first time since his wayward promotion, he felt in control; as though he were in complete command of the situation. He entered the room, and saw her for the first time since coming home. He had been thinking about the deal. _Brigadier General Jonathan Patrick O'Neill (USAF/69-4-141) and Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Elizabeth Carter (USAF/366349) have exemplified themselves as officers in the finest professional traditions of the United States Air Force._ Okay, it was more of an ultimatum, really. _These two officers have (individually and in collusion) on numerous occasions, committed acts of selflessness, valor and bravery in the service of the United States Air Force, on behalf of the planet Earth, and for the sake of Her Allies._ Now though, it seemed to drop slowly away; piece-by-piece, like the leaves on a tree in autumn. She seemed alone, isolated. It was the first time he'd really had a chance to stare at her since waking. His ma...no, scratch that; his lieutenant co…no. Wait. Sam. She was smiling nervously at people swirling around her, hands clasped in front of her, tugging at the end of the jacket on her dress blues. Her eyes swept the room and she saw him. He was caught. Their eyes locked. Slowly, methodically, eyes smoldering shamelessly he crossed the room to her. Her gaze was cast ever upward as he approached and her breath seemed to catch. He could see the thin sheen in her wide, ice blue eyes. He hadn't realized he'd stopped. He gazed at her, then glanced at the floor and back up to meet her eyes again, asking permission. She blinked imperceptibly.

Jack took a single step forward, into her personal space. They only gazed at one another, no words spoken. Then again, they only _needed_ to speak about half the time. _These actions have resulted in the preservation of billions of lives and ensured their lasting pursuit of liberty_. His eyes followed her body from her shoes, to her blue uniform jacket, to her small, golden earrings and back to her eyes. Still, seeking permission. This time her eyes, if it were even possible, deepened as her head inclined slightly. He took a step forward and placed both hands gently on her waist, hers coming to rest somehow on his shoulders. His jaw was set with emotion; he was running his tongue over the back of his teeth, nervously trying to drain the excess energy. Slowly, gently, his right hand dropped a few inches, coming to rest on her hip. His left hand lifted slightly and his fingers glided up her side to come to rest again on her shoulder. Then, after a moment's askance, the hand came to its final location on her neck, his thumb resting just in front of her earlobe. She dropped her right hand to loop slowly, partially around his waist; her left snaking up his spine, to the back of his head, her fingers intertwining with his hair.

The moisture in her eyes was forming deep pools, quivering slightly in the harsh overhead lighting. _They have shown an unswerving commitment to duty, repeatedly putting all others before themselves and each other_. Her face slightly flushed, they pulled gently toward one another, bringing their foreheads together. It was then that Jack realized that all attention in the room had turned toward them—not that he particularly cared right now. There was only silence, their embrace, and the people who bore witness to the simple display. Jack watched as silent tears slid down her face with this new angle. Slowly, mutually, they took one more quarter-step forward, eliminating the space between them, their arms tightening slowly but methodically. He lowered his head to the side of her face, his mouth just above her ear. She turned her head and let it rest on his neck with her nose on his jaw-line and her lips just above his Adam's apple. He loosed a ragged breath as he felt her quiet tears run down his neck.

He brought his left hand forward slowly, sweeping her cheek with his fingertips. Closing his hand slightly, he ran his knuckles slowly up and then down her cheek. Finally, coming to her chin, he lifted it. She seemed to anticipate him, and the action was effortless. Their foreheads came together again, and they gazed at each other, as though for the first time. Slowly, their eyes closed, their heads tilted and they brought their lips together, resting them gently on one another. There was no abject passion; only sincere tenderness—tenderness engendered by years of deep, mutual respect, admiration and an abiding, genuine…love. Jack had realized that he was experiencing something genuinely rare--something truly pure. Something that was, at the time, unique and singular in his life; he was living in a perfect moment in time.

The kiss was small and gentle. Jack pulled her lower lip into his mouth slightly, her tongue gently caressing his upper. The depth and meaning of this simple gesture, was beyond anything that he had ever believed or hoped possible. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back, gaining control of his breath. For a moment, he saw fear in her eyes as she opened them. His expression, though, seemed to quiet her concern, but the raw emotion on her face remained. He looked around, really for the first time. The reception had come to a complete halt. The entire SGC was here: including Hammond, Jacob Carter, and President Hays. They were utterly silent and thoroughly rapt. His eyes returned to Sam, never losing their intensity. His left hand dropped from her face and he reached into his left pocket, withdrawing a perfectly folded white handkerchief.

With one hand he unfolded the cloth and dropped it to the besmirched gray concrete floor of the embarkation room. _Having established the above; by executive order General Jonathan O'Neill and Colonel Samantha Carter are hereby absolved of their responsibility… _Looking down and back up for the first time, he noticed his own pristine dress blues, and the stars that now adorned his epaulets. He gazed back into Sam's moist eyes. …_under the Uniform Code of Military Justice with respect to Air Force Instruction 36-2909… _Slowly, without breaking contact, he dropped his right knee to rest on the handkerchief, taking her left hand in his right. Swallowing hard, his mouth filled with invisible cotton. Somehow, amidst the ragged breath and dry mouth, he managed to find his voice.

"Samantha." She blinked at the use of her full first name. "I've spent the past several years trying to keep us from coming to this, and…I've failed. For eight years, you've been my second-in-command, and my trusted friend. For the past six of those years, though, you've been more to me--more than I wanted, and more than I expected. I tried ignoring it; I tried hiding it; I tried burying it. I can't do that anymore." He swallowed hard, watching the tears resume their streaming down her face. "Sam, will you marry me?" …._at their discretion and with respect only to each other…_

She bit her lip and looked away, blinking hard. Somehow, for some stochastic quirk of fate, when she opened her eyes her gaze landed squarely on her father, who was at the edge of Jack's peripheral vision. Jack watched with irrational trepidation. Slowly, the older man's eyes softened, his mouth pulled into a thin grin, and he closed his eyes and, nodding, repeated the approval he'd granted to Jack. Steeled by her father's blessing, rejecting all other considerations, Sam's eyes returned to Jack. She licked her lips and inclined her head, gathering a hoarse voice. "Oh God, yes, Jack." _…as of this, the 15th day of June 2004…_

Somewhere, at the edge of his perception, he was aware of the enormous cheer that erupted from the room, but her smile and her eyes occupied all of his real attention. He felt a smile draw across his face as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, white velvet box: the purchase he had made before reaching his accord with the president. Somehow, he knew he wouldn't destroy this moment by mentioning it. Soon, he would have to; but not yet—there was no place in this moment for anything else. He opened it with one hand. As he withdrew the small, delicate, diamond ring, he realized that Sam still didn't know about the deal. The fact that he had bought the ring before that agreement, and she had decided to become his wife without knowing about it, made this more cathartic than he had thought possible.

The tears slid down her face even more freely as he slipped the ring onto her finger, blinking back some moisture of his own (not that he'd admit). The cheers flared again, and became whistles and catcalls. She smiled bigger and brighter than he had ever seen (which was saying something), offering both hands to get him to his feet. His knees creaked horribly. There was no room in his life for pain at the moment, though. He took her face into his hands and they pulled each other into a deep, loving, tender kiss.

"Jack, honey?" Jack turned around on the deck to see Sam smiling at him from the sliding glass door, silhouetted by the glow inside, resting her hand on the doorframe. The sound of Christmas music and a peel of laughter drifted out around her. His breath frosted heavily in the cold December air. He lowered the coffee cup in his hands and his wife closed the door behind her and walked toward him slowly. "What are you smiling about?" Jack realized that he was grinning broadly.

He walked toward her and encircled her in his arms. He absorbed her scent and kissed her neck lightly before pulling back enough to look into her cool, blue eyes. "Just a good memory." She flashed her Jack-only-million-dollar smile and jumped slightly as Jack felt a light tap on his stomach. His hand, guided by hers went from her waist to the small bulge forming in her abdomen. "Come back inside. We'll make some more. Everyone's waiting for the toast and Dad's running out of jokes." Jack smiled at the woman who could and had made his heart stop. "Sure thing, gorgeous." Together, they stepped back into the warm, full house, with Jack smirking as they passed a framed letter on the wall, signed by President Henry Hays.


End file.
